


Sweet Child of Mine

by mallotovcocktail



Category: Supernatural
Genre: deaged, spell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 10:00:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1814494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mallotovcocktail/pseuds/mallotovcocktail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam didn’t remember how much of a whiney, shy kid Dean had been the first time around. Not that Sam would have noticed, being about two years old himself. Turns out, Dean is a quiet and reserved child this time. He has his memories, and hell is probably really difficult on the mind of a kid. Dean is probably having to go through it all again but from a different lens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Child of Mine

Sam had only been a few moments behind Dean and the witch they were chasing through the New York City subway system. He really can’t believe there had been time for him to lose them.

He skidded to a stop as he entered a large opening where several rails crossed. Three options: three pathways to choose from; the A train and the D line and the G minor or something. Sam would be able to guess which one Dean would take with 89% accuracy but this witch? Her decisions had been unseemly unpredictable thus far.

She’d been wreaking havoc among the streets of the big apple, orbiting NYU by targeting students off campus. Turning the students older or younger, teaching lessons to the immature college students.

He quickly weighed his options: yelling Dean’s name could get unwanted attention or distract Dean from his chase, putting him in danger; however, Dean might need him.

“Dean!” His voice had deepened in recent years, sinking down the registers, accumulating ash.

“Sammy?” The response was high pitched and close by, the response was wrong. Sam spun around. A toddler was sitting in the clothes Sam had last seen Dean wearing, drowning in his brother’s grey henley and ripped jeans.

“...Dean?”

“Sam.” This time, his name was uttered from behind him. He turned again, spotting a young boy, about ten, with dark hair, blue eyes, and Castiel’s frumpy trenchcoat, now even more oversized.

“No.” Sam didn’t want to deal with this.

He’d only been a moment behind Dean and the witch!

\--

Sam didn’t remember how much of a whiney, shy kid Dean had been the first time around. Not that Sam would have noticed, being about two years old himself. Turns out, Dean is a quiet and reserved child this time. He has his memories, and hell is probably really difficult on the mind of a kid. Dean is probably having to go through it all again but from a different lens. Sam had suspected as much before Castiel had theorized the same. Castiel, whose vessel had grown younger, had arrived when the terrified prayers of young Dean Winchester had reached his metaphorical ears. 

They were sitting in a booth of a Denny’s. Not their usual diner of choice, but Dean had seen the ad in the window for a grand slam and emerged from his pouting banishment to the passenger seat to demand that Sam purchase him one. 

“Bacon, Sam!” Dean’s voice was so young and demanding it was comical. Thus, Sam had succumb and they were sitting on the plastic seats, the two children dressed in newly purchased Goodwill clothing. 

So far, this witch hadn’t been deadly, only a pain in the asses of twenty-somethings from 5th street to Broadway, or wherever, Sam isn’t familiar with New York City. 

Sam was watching Dean shovel eggs and bacon and ham into his mouth with tiny fingers. Castiel’s fingers were wrapped around themselves, his hands sitting on the table, the sleeves of his coat pooling over his wrists.

“I believe the best method would be to find the witch and have her restore Dean and my vessel to their previous states.”

“Yeah,” Sam sighed, laying his hand on his cheek and watching his older brother stare longingly at the crayons near Sam’s elbow. Sam rolled the crayons towards him. “But you try to grab her, man. We had her, we were chasing her, and she did this to you guys. How are we gonna get her?” 

“I didn’t like her,” Dean was pressing the red crayon much harder than necessary against the placemat, drawing in the blank spaces, protection sigils and puppies. He drew a grid and put an ‘x’ in the corner, pushing the paper towards Cas, who stared at the game with confusion. “She was mean, I don’t want to be a baby. I wanna be a big kid and I want to drive baby.” He rolled the blue crayon towards Cas, attempting to prompt a response.

“Dean, I don’t understand.” Cas looked legitimately pained by that fact. Sam took mercy on him, picking up the over used nub and drawing an ‘o’ in the center square. Dean looked sad but continued to fill in the tic-tac-toe grid, smirking as he won. 

“What do we know about the witch?” Sam thought aloud. “We know what she looks like now but we have no name or address.”

“Madeleine Monroe,” Dean said, butchering the first name significantly, his touch tripping around in his small mouth. “Protester of History.” 

“Professor,” Sam corrected. “How do you know that?”

“Her picture!” Dean smiled, his placemat turned over to the blank underside. 

“What are you talking about, Dean?” Cas was watching him with awe and Sam blinked uncomfortably. 

“Her picture! It was in the school newspaper. I saw it on campus, it was an article. I don’t remember what it was about. It was boring.”

“Well, then. We know who we’re after. Let’s get you two back to the motel and then I’ll find her address.” 

Castiel nodded, his hands still clasped. Sam stood, taking the receipt to the cashier. Dean and Cas followed.

“I made this for you,” Dean said. Sam looked back to see Dean hand a piece of the placemat, ripped from the corner, to Cas. In black crayola, Dean had drawn the anti-possession symbol that still adorned Dean’s chest. “To protect you!”

Cas took the paper cautiously, holding it delicately at his fingertips. 

“Thank you, Dean.”

“That was really thoughtful of you.” Sam smiled back at Dean who glanced at him before grabbing Cas’ hand and pulling him towards the door.

“Come on, Cas!”

-

Dean was also hyper. Sam was sitting at the table of the motel, calling the school and police department and anyone who would pick up, trying to get Monroe’s address. Cas was sitting crosslegged on one of the beds, his eyes glossy as he searched his angelic phone book. Dean was laying on the floor, his legs perched against the bed, his bare toes wriggling as he silently played with the television remote. 

The channels were flipping and Sam was getting tired. 

“Dean,” Sam growled, warning the kid. 

“Saaaaaam,” Dean whined. “I’m bored.”

Sam stared, watching Dean try to reach his toes with his fingers. He dragged his hand down his face.

“Cas, can you take him somewhere, please?”

Castiel squinted at Sam, clearly confused as to where somewhere would be.

“The park, Cas. I don’t know, there was one behind the motel, just, take him.”

This time, Cas nodded, rolling off the bed and crouching over Dean, suddenly looking very, very young. Dean smiled up at the angel as he pressed his small hand onto Dean’s forehead. The children disappeared and Sam sighed.

-

Castiel stood on the edge of the sandbox that surrounded the plastic and metal structure. Dean ran to the jungle jim, his arms hoisting his body up onto the higher levels. He swung around, jumped on the rails and the separators and squirming into the twisting slide. Dean rolled into the sand, giggling and shaking the sand out of his hair. 

Dean began digging holes.

“Cas, bring me some water!” Castiel hesitated, not entirely certain why Dean wanted water, or   
he wanted the water, for that matter. He settled for fetching a water bottle from a convenience store a mile down the road and sitting in the sand next to Dean. 

“Thanks!” Dean grabbed the bottle from Cas’ hands without missing a beat, pouring the liquid into the sand and plunging his hands into the malleable material.

“Dean?” Dean smiled and pulled Cas’ hand into the wet gravel.

“Sand castles, Cas! Watch.” He pressed the sand together, compacting it into a pillar. Cas watched as Dean’s small hands pounded the mound with a huge grin pressing against his teeth. “This is great, Cas. Look, I’m making a tower for Rapunzel. Sam can be Rapunzel, let his long hair down so we can climb up and save him.” 

Castiel smiled, his eyes focusing on the smooth roundness of Dean’s young face. Castiel had not known Dean as a child. After he saved the Righteous Man from perdition, Castiel had had the opportunity to watched parts of the man’s past, dropping into the memories of the Winchesters, invisible and stationary. He’d seen Mary Winchester rock Dean up and down on her hip, humming a song Cas recognized from Dean’s dreams and stirring boiling water. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t interacted. He had just watched the small Dean move and laugh and smile.

Castiel reached out, his fingers tracing the line of Dean’s cheek. Dean looked up, a smile still stamped on his face, and giggled. 

Dean jumped to his feet, jogging towards the play ground. He tripped, his toe catching on a particular mound of sand. Castiel was there, his hands grasping Dean’s upper arms. Dean laughed, tears slipping from his eyes, and pulled a rock from the sand, pressing it into Castiel’s hand and sidestepping him. 

“Tag!” Dean ran, climbing onto the bars and platforms of the play set. Castiel stood, staring, his head tilted slightly. “You’re it, Cas! You chase me. Try to hit me and then I’m it!” Cas nodded, slipping the smooth rock into his pocket, and teleported to Dean’s side. He jumped, his already oversized eyes widening, the green irises shining. Cas placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder, over the now invisible handprint.

“Tag,” Castiel said, quietly. 

Dean laughed, again. Castiel had never heard Dean laugh this much, with this much abandon, so gleefully.

“That’s not fair, Cas!” 

Castiel attempted a shrug, a fairly new gesture for him, the oversized coat slipping around his small frame. 

“Dean! Cas!” Sam was standing at the edge of the sandbox, his hands on his hips, eyebrows raised in mirth.

\--

They were standing in front of the house where the tax records claimed Professor Monroe lived. Dean and Cas were flanking Sam, Dean grasping the wrist of Sam’s overshirt. Castiel held his hand out in front of them, a hex bag laying on his palm. Sam grabbed it, nodding a thanks at the angel as he shoved it into his pocket and placed his hand on top of Castiel’s head. Cas gave him a grumpy look; Dean giggled.

“You guys should stay in the car.” Dean crossed his arms across his chest.

“No way, Sammy. You can’t go alone.” Sam gave him a withering look.

“While I’m inclined to agree with Dean, I’m not sure his current state is conducive to that plan,” Castiel said.

“You’re still you, though, Cas!” Dean rolled his eyes, a comical look for the child.

“We shouldn’t leave Dean alone, Sam.” Dean made a high pitched and angry sound. Sam nodded.

“Alright, this is what we’ll do: buddy up.” Castiel looked confused but Dean smiled, hopping to Cas’ free side and slipping his tiny hand into Cas’. Cas gave Sam an imploring look and Sam shook his head. “Let’s go.”

They walked toward the building, Sam picked the lock as Dean bounced on his small heels. As the door swung open slowly, Sam inched his way in, pressing his pointer finger to his lips, unnecessarily. They crept through the house, Sam cradling his gun and Dean squeezing Cas’ hand.

Sam turned a corner, motioning for the others to stay. Dean continued and Cas placed his hard, strong hand on Dean’s other arm, his face still inclined toward Sam’s trail. Dean put his fingers around Cas’ wrist. Cas looked at him, exploring Dean’s expression. The young version of the Righteous Man was afraid, his eyes full of unshed tears and concern. Cas gasped silently, staring at the unexplored emotions; raw, young emotion.

Dean swallowed and then smiled, using his sleeve to wipe the unshed tears from his eyes. 

A shot rang out and Castiel and Dean were in the room with Sam and the witch. Sam smirked over at them, spinning the gun in his hand and putting it into the back of his waistband. The witch was laying on the floor, blood seeping from her leg. She was grimacing.

“So, as you might be able to see, these two,” Sam said, motioning to Dean and Castiel. “Are not the appropriate age that they ought to be.” Sam was approaching her, prowling. He crouched next to her, tilting his head menacingly. “How do you think that happened?”

The witch cringed and coughed. 

“Fuck, I’m not hurting anyone.” She breathed out, cringing. Sam pressed his fingers into the bullet wound. “It wears off!”

“There we go,” Sam crooned. Dean’s small fingers twitched in Cas’. “How long?”

“I don’t know.” The witch was beginning to cry from the pain. Sam reached towards her wound again. “I don’t! It’s different for every person.” She was flinching away from Sam. “It just--It just has to do with the person, the person who I changed, it’s not intricate or complicated. It’s just what they want. If they want to change back, they will.”

Castiel looked at his hands, his small vessel and wondered. Did he want to be young? Why would he? 

Dean pulled his hand, looking at Cas’ face. Cas turned to him, and saw Dean’s understanding. Dean wanted to be young; why? 

“Thank you,” Sam said. He walked away from the witch, nodding his head at Castiel, who dropped Dean’s hand and approached the woman.

Castiel touched her head, her wound knitting up. She sighed, angry but relieved. Castiel sent extra grace through his fingers, lulling her to sleep.

\--

Dean was pouting, sitting cross legged, his arms on top of his chest, avoiding eye contact with the other occupants of the hotel room. 

Sam was pacing, his hand on his forehead. 

Castiel was staring, his eyes focused on Dean’s avoidance, occasionally turning to trace Sam’s journey around the room.

“Ok,” Sam said, stopping for a moment. “So Dean doesn’t want to change back and the spell is centered on him. Ok, cool, we got this.”

Cas sat silently and still. 

“We’ll just have to wait it out? That or figure out why Dean wants to be a kid.” Dean scoffed and Cas smiled despite himself.

“I don’t wanna be a kid,” Dean whined, defiant. Sam gave Cas a knowing look, but Cas didn’t know. He squinted, he didn’t understand, how was he supposed to understand? Sam shook his head. Cas frowned.

Dean was asleep by 7, his small body curled in on itself on the queen sized bed. Cas sat on the edge. He pulled his hand free from where Dean had been cuddling against Cas’ wrist.

Sam watched Cas adjust his coat and sit at the motel table opposite him.

“Do you know why Dean desires childhood?” Castiel entwined his fingers with one another, placing them on the table. Sam glanced up quickly, returning to the laptop to continue whatever he was distracting himself with. 

“Dean…” Sam sighed, closing his laptop and catching Cas’ eye. “Dean never got a childhood. Our dad… wasn’t around. Dean was more a father to me than our dad was. Dean doesn’t know it, but he wants to be taken care of--he never got taken care of--he wants to relax, not worry about demons or monsters.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “He deserves it.”

Castiel nodded, both adamant and thoughtful. Silence fell and Sam resumed his typing.

“What do you think we should do?” 

Sam sighed.

“Take care of him, I suppose.”

Cas remained silent, looking over his shoulder at the small lump on the bed. The sound of Sam’s keyboard filled the room. Castiel wondered, how one would care for the Righteous Man as a child. Memories had portrayed Mary carrying him and singing to him. Castiel knew no songs, except the tunes for the ones Dean sang in his sleep.

Castiel hesitated. He did not know how Dean would feel about this, he did not know why he suddenly felt his cheeks redden at the thought of singing to the other man. He huffed silently and moved to sit cross legged on the unoccupied side of the bed.

He watched Dean’s adolescent body shift, moving in his sleep to accommodate the motion of the bed. Dean stuffed his thumb into his mouth and breathed out deeply. Castiel began to sing, the words quiet, lifted up by the melody. Castiel reworked the words of Mary’s voice. He continued to hum the last chords when he saw Sam’s face. 

Sam was gaping at him and then looked away, at his keyboard, when he caught Cas’ eye.

“Sam?”

“Huh?” Sam faked surprise, smiling blankly at the angel.

“Did I do something incorrectly?”

Sam sighed, his eyes darting around the room before he made a decision. He closed his laptop and turned towards Cas. 

“No, Cas. That was perfect, Dean would have… appreciated it. I think I just realized just how   
your bond is.”

Castiel blinked.

“Oh?” Sam raised an eyebrow. “Oh,” Castiel completed, looking down at the hands in his lap. “I’m not sure Dean would condone us discussing this.”

“Yeah? Well, he can suck it up.” Sam opened his laptop again, his expression smooth and annoyed. “You’re in love with him, he’s in love with you, the world continues to spin and you both continue to be children.” Sam laughed at his small joke.

Castiel stood, nodded at Sam and teleported to Taiwan. 

\--

“Where’s Cas?” Sam jumped slightly at Dean’s sudden vocalization. It was nearing noon and Dean had been fast asleep last time Sam had looked up from the news.

“I don’t know, he disappeared last night.”

“Oh.” Dean looked sad, his childhood face giving up emotions that had ever painted his adult features. Sam shook his head.

“Have you figured out why you wanna be a kid enough to keep a spell going?” Dean pouted at Sam, who laughed.

“No.”

“Hey, let’s do something fun, today,” Sam suggested. Dean looked hopeful and nodded.

They found a mini golf course, stocked with an arcade and a roller rink. Dean was bouncing up and down at Sam’s side as he paid for their round and was handed two balls and clubs.

“What about Cas?” Dean yanked the blue ball and shorter club from Sam’s hands, pulling Sam off balance.

“He can join us later, if he wants.”

“Ok,” Dean whispered. “Let’s go!” Sam watched as Dean ran towards the entrance of the course, waving at him to follow.

Sam shadowed Dean as he hit the golf ball around, annoyed and excited. Dean got a hole in one and whooped, jumping up and down at Sam’s feet. At the last hole, Sam won and Dean grumbled about the game being rigged and tossed the club into Sam’s hands, running off towards the arcade.

Shaking his head, Sam returned the golf clubs and took several twenties from the ATM.

“His prayers are uninhibited as a child.” Castiel was standing beside him, inside of his space. Sam took a step backwards.

“Oh?”

They began walking toward the arcade, the plaid of Dean’s shirt visible from where he was waiting to play skeeball. 

“His thoughts are prayers. All of them. He’s sending them all to me. Why?”

Sam shrugged. “Maybe it’s subconscious. Hey, I’m gonna go sit down, take Dean the money and entertain him. You can have a childhood too.”

Castiel stood, bills in hand, and watched Sam find a table and pull his laptop out of his bag. He turned toward Dean, who caught his eye and waved.

“Cas! Look, they have skeeball! Wanna play? I bet I can beat you.”

“I don’t know how to play, Dean.” Cas handed Dean the money. Dean bounded away, motioning for Castiel to hold their spot and got change from a machine at the end of the row of skeeball alleys. He returned with both hands fisting quarters and stuffed them into the pockets of Castiel’s coat. 

“So,” Dean said, approaching a newly vacated game and paying the cost. “Skeeball. You throw these balls like bowling and get them into the holes!” Dean rolled a ball and it overshot all the targets, bottoming out on the rounded 50 point loop. He smiled and handed the next ball to Castiel. Cas bowled the ball and it landed in the highest target. Dean scoffed, hands on his hips.

Castiel followed Dean from game to game, learning and subsequently mastering every challenge they came across, collecting tickets at a rate that had many employees eyeing the boys.

“It’s physics, Dean.” Cas was stuffing his most recent haul into his last empty pocket as Dean lead him to the prize counter. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean waved him off, standing on tip toes to look over the glass display case. He was eyeing the row of toys, model cars, stuffed animals, even an xbox. “Give them your tickets, Cas!”

They piled into the Impala a few minutes later with a rainbow slinky and a large toy model of the car. Dean was beaming, tearing apart the packaging to lay with the toy he’d already named   
Castiel sat in the back seat, the slinky in his lap.

Sam pulled out of the parking lot, smiling over at Dean as he pushed all the trash into the box, always cleaning. He tried not to think about why Dean tidied even as a child, about the inherent need to be prepared to pick up and leave at any moment.

“We should get a new case,” Dean said, abruptly. Cas’ head shot up, finding Sam’s eyes in the rear view mirror. Dean’s voice had sounded old, adult, aged. 

“Dean?” Cas said, cautious.

Dean looked up at him, his eyes wide. He swallowed and then smiled, youthful again.

“Yeah?”

“Would you like to keep my slinky safe for me?”

Sam looked at Castiel through the mirror, his eyes soft and knowing. Castiel avoided his gaze as Dean leaned into the back of the cab, grabbing for the toy.

“Sure, Cas!”

Silence filled the car as they drove back to the hotel, Dean supplying quiet noises for Baby Baby as he drove her around the passenger seat. 

Sam sighed as Dean darted out of the parked car and toward the motel room. Castiel was standing beside the driver’s door when Sam stood.

“He enjoys being cared for,” Castiel said, his eyes watching the boy, who was now sitting on the curb in front of the door, his toy car doing impossible maneuvers.

“Don’t let him hear you say that.” 

They entered the motel room and watched as Dean gave Baby Baby a tour of the beds.

“This is Sam’s,” Dean said, pointing toward the first queen sized mattress. “And this is mine and Cas’. You can share with us!” He threw his body onto the comforter and made engine sounds. Sam caught Castiel’s eye as the angel’s face became blank. He sighed as Castiel disappeared.

\--

Sam woke up to the jostling of the mattress, and flopped onto his back, finding Dean. He was sitting on his heels beside Sam’s chest, a nervous expression on his face.

“Dean?” Sam rubbed his eyes. “What’s wrong?” The clock was illuminating green numbers that informed him of the early time they were talking in.

“I, um,” Dean whispered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I had a nightmare.” He spoke so quickly that his words slurred. Sam frowned. 

“Yeah?” Dean was looking at the blanket. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Cas won’t answer me. I asked him to visit when I woke up. Is he mad at me?”

Sam sat up, running his fingers through his long hair.

“No, Dean. He’s not mad at you, he’s just busy. Heaven must need him, or he’s looking for a quicker fix for the age thing.”

Dean looked away from Sam again, frowning in an adorably young way.

“I think he’s mad at me. He’s stuck as a kid because I wanna be a kid.”

“He’s not mad.”

“I’m sorry, Sammy.”

“Why?”

Sam shifted, crossing his legs and facing Dean.

“For this.” Dean motioned towards his tiny frame. “For wanting this, being an inconvenience. For doing it to Cas, too.”

“Dean, it’s fine. We don’t mind.” Dean’s eyes had tears welling in them.

“No, it’s not. I’m forcing Cas to be a kid because I can’t admit that I love him and I’m a big baby.”

Sam held his breath and waited. 

Dean’s eyes widened. 

“Would you like to sleep in my bed tonight?” Dean nodded and ducked under the covers, snuggling up under Sam’s arm. 

“Night, Sammy.”

“Night, Dean.”

\--

Castiel was standing at the edge of the sandbox when the Winchester found him. Sam pushed Dean forward, encouraging. Dean stuck his tongue out at his brother.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said, without looking to the side.

“Hey, Cas.”  
“I’m sorry that I didn’t answer your prayers last night.” Castiel presents no excuses or explanation. Dean looks at the angel, who is taller than him now. 

“I’m sorry, Cas.”

Cas looks at Dean, surprised. “Why?”

“For making you a kid and stuff.” He was looking at his toes now, dragging them along the concrete on which he was standing. 

“It’s alright, Dean. You needed the time and you needed company. I got caught in the crossfire.”

“Um, that’s the thing.” Dean smiled. Cas tilted his head. “I, well, I wanted you specifically to be a kid with me.”

“Dean?” Cas moved his head, searching for Dean’s eyes.

“I love you.”

“Dean,” Cas scolded.

“No, Cas. This isn’t because I’m a kid. I’m a kid because I love you. I’m a kid because I’m emotionally stunted and I couldn’t handle life anymore. I’m a kid because I failed at loving you like I failed at everything else.”

Castiel watched Dean as he sat on the curb that border the sandbox. 

He joined him, digging his fingers in the sand.

“I never got to be a child. I’m an angel, of course, so it’s not a surprise. Angels don’t have an adolescent period.” Dean watched him. “I never wanted to experience until I met you. I never considered I might have missed out on something, might be missing out on something.”

Castiel sighed.

“I was lost the moment I laid hands on you, remember?”

Dean smiled, radiant. Castiel mirrored him. Dean looked away and towards the sand.

“Mud pies!” He yelled suddenly. “Water, Cas. We need more water.”

\--

Castiel waited for Dean to wake. He was sitting on the unoccupied side of the bed, his newly renewed adult vessel crosslegged in a small throw back to his previous state. He had flown to Dean’s side the moment the spell had lifted, in Dean’s sleep. Since his arrival at Dean’s side, Dean had found and grasped his hand, like he had done as a kid.

Sam awoke first, his eyes landing on Cas. He smiled before making a quiet, whispered excuse, and slipping out the motel room door. 

Dean stretched before he opened his eyes. He opened one, staring at Cas accusingly.

“We’re adults again,” he said, petulantly. Cas nodded. “Ew, responsibility.” Dean smiled, closing his eyes again, rubbing his newly stubbled face against the back of Cas’ hand. 

“You’re warm.” Dean opened his eyes fully. 

“Am I?” 

Dean nodded, reaching up to pull Cas down onto his side. He pressed his face against Cas’ button down. 

“Warm,” Dean slurred, falling back to sleep.


End file.
